


What Dreams Do I Own

by contagiousrhythm211



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contagiousrhythm211/pseuds/contagiousrhythm211
Summary: Pushed together physically to be emotionally broken apart.Some smut, an argument, and a not-so-happily ever after.





	What Dreams Do I Own

_And I rock myself to sleep, and I tell myself "don't get caught too deep"_

_'Cause I know by now, you're not coming for me._

  

She'd known that he and his girlfriend had broken up. She hadn't particularly wanted to know, but it was the only reason she hadn't been caught completely off guard when he had called her that week. Five years of tense hellos and unanswered messages, and now he wanted to go get dinner.

It was just supposed to be dinner.

But that seemed far away now as she stood in his apartment, back pressed against the doorframe, one hand behind her to keep her steady and the other tugging up the hem of his shirt. Both of his hands cupped her face, the tips of his fingers just beginning to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, as he kissed her. He alternated through a pattern of soft kisses that he pressed deeper and deeper before suddenly kissing her softly again. She moved her hand from behind her back shifting her weight just enough to cause him to stumble forward slightly and move his hand to brace himself against the door. She took the opportunity to take control, brushing her hand underneath his shirt across the bare skin of his stomach, before undoing his belt. She kissed him, parting his lips enough to press her tongue between them. She felt more than heard him moan, a slight tremble from deep in his throat, as she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his pants, stroking him gently with her fingers.

He lifted his hand that was still holding her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek, and moved it to her leg. He slowly moved his hand up her thigh, under her skirt, and eventually followed the curve of her hip around to grab her ass. She pulled her hand from his waistband and ran both hands up his chest to rest her arms on his shoulders. She exhaled sharply, her lips almost touching his, as his hand traced back over her hip and then slid forward between her legs. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her panties, moving dangerously close to exactly where she wanted him to be. She kissed him softly, barely giving him time to kiss her back, before tracing the line of his jaw with her mouth. She paused, biting down gently on his earlobe before asking which door was his bedroom.

He leaned back but didn't answer, moving his hand to a safer position resting on her hip. She chewed on her lower lip waiting for his next move. She glanced down briefly and was about to adjust the edge of his shirt, which was folded up over his side, exposing his hip where his unbuttoned jeans sagged, when he reached for her hand. He led the way to a door on the opposite side of the living room, stepping inside first still holding on to her hand tightly. He clumsily sat down on the edge of the bed as she positioned herself standing between his legs. He laughed at how loud the mattress was as he flopped down and then smiled at her, his gaze slightly unfocused. She was suddenly hit with the unpleasant realization that she couldn't remember the last time he had seemed that content and happy looking at her.

The thought was quickly gone though, as he was already tugging on the edge of her shirt, pulling it up over her shoulders and head. She giggled, dropping her shirt on the floor and reaching out to help him pull his shirt off too, just before he laid back on the bed pulling her on top of him. They continued kissing, tasting each other in the dark, the only light in the room coming from the open door into the living room. He ran his hands up and down her sides eventually stopping at her breasts, tracing the edges of her bra with his thumbs, before moving his hands to her shoulders and sliding the straps down her arms. She sat up just enough to slide the straps the rest of the way off, letting her bra slip down her stomach before finally unhooking it and letting it drop to the floor. He swallowed, his hands firmly resting on her hips, watching as she traced her hands down her own body, briefly cupping her breasts before moving his hands up to cover them instead.

She leaned forward to kiss him, her hair tumbling past her shoulders. She pressed deeper into the kiss the harder he squeezed her breasts eventually working her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. She abruptly pulled back, moving over to lie in the spot next to him, and pulling him to be on top of her. He rolled over, sliding his pants the rest of the way off before unzipping her skirt and easing it past her hips and down her legs. He pressed his lips against hers, bracing himself with his hand just above her shoulder as she wrapped her legs around him. She could feel him getting harder as he trailed his lips down her neck, moving further down to line her collarbone with his tongue. He moved down to her breasts, lifting his gaze to meet her eyes as he sucked on her nipple, feeling the slight tremor of her hips below him. Wanting to feel more, he bit down, tugging her nipple gently between his teeth. She moaned, suddenly digging her nails into his shoulder and dragging them across his skin. He lifted his head and then in one quick movement slid his hand down her stomach, between her legs, and two fingers slipped inside stroking her. Her eyes snapped open as she cried out again, louder this time, at the unexpected friction before she began pressing her hips against his hand. She moved her hands from his shoulders to lift his face toward hers, but before he had a chance to kiss her, she bit down on his lower lip, tugging it away and then letting it go with a mischievous smile. He smiled back at her, shaking his head slightly, before moving all the way down her body. He trailed his mouth along the inside of her thigh and finally slid his tongue inside her.

She moaned softly as his tongue moved in and out, circling inside. He gripped the outside of her thigh with one hand, his hair brushing against her, tickling the inside of her thigh and adding to the growing warmth deep inside her. He lifted his head, pressing his fingers against her again, stroking slow then fast, before resting that hand on her hip. Every time she tensed feeling herself get closer to the edge, his hand tensed with her. His tongue flicked against her faster and faster until she came, sinking against the bed, crying out, her eyes squeezed shut. When she opened them, he was looking at her, and as she struggled to catch her breath she noticed that his breathing was already labored, too. He pressed his lips slowly just below her belly button before moving on top of her again to slowly kiss her neck. She reached down, stroking his erection, as she pressed her lips against his ear and asked if he had a condom. He nodded, gesturing toward the table next to his bed, but before she could move he was reaching over her and opening the drawer himself. He ripped open the foil and she helped him roll it on. She slid her hands up his chest and around his shoulders as he lowered himself over her, and she wrapped her legs around him again as he moved inside her. She pressed her hips up, grinding against him as his hips bucked up and down. It wasn't long before his entire body shuddered and he let out a loud, muffled grunt, his mouth pressed against her shoulder. He was still shaking slightly as he slowly turned his head, his quick, shallow breaths warm against her neck. She reached toward him, running her fingers through his hair as she brushed it back from his forehead. He glanced up at her briefly and then closed his eyes, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

He eventually pulled himself up from the bed and crossed the room to toss the used condom in the trash, then walked back, pulling up the covers and climbing into bed. She shimmied herself under the covers next to him and snuggled up against his side. He turned and kissed her, a long, deep kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair again, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw and the curve of his ear. They stayed like that for a long time until he finally broke away, tucking her forehead under his chin, her cheek pressed against his chest. She struggled between wanting to say something and not being able to think of anything to say that wouldn't ruin the moment. They had barely spoken to each other in almost five years but tonight that hadn't mattered; tonight things had been exactly like they were before. She still hadn't come up with anything to say when she heard him begin to snore softly. She closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by his gentle snoring and his heart beating just below her ear, and she knew the silence had been perfect.

\--------------------

He woke up begrudgingly. No longer able to keep his eyes closed, he opened them slowly against the single spot of bright light in the room that happened to be shining directly on his face. His bedroom got direct sunlight for such a short window of time in the morning that he forgot about it if he didn't happen to still be in bed. The blinds were still closed from the day before, but one section had been broken years earlier by an overzealous dog who felt it had been taking too long to get the blinds open one morning. He was really regretting not getting that fixed now. He turned away from the sun to see her still sleeping with her head resting against his chest, her hair cascading over his shoulder and pooling onto the pillow behind her. He hadn't noticed the night before how long her hair was now, longer than the last time he'd seen her and much longer since the last time he'd been this close. Her face was turned up slightly towards him, as though she had been watching him in her sleep. With the sun spotlight still shining from the window, he could see the faint scattering of freckles that ran across just the bridge of her nose, just like he remembered. Except something was different. They were darker or lighter than before, there were more or there were less - he couldn't be sure but it was something. He followed the line of her nose up and saw a faint yet noticeable line between her eyebrows. He was sure that hadn't been there years ago, but he was surprised he hadn't noticed it last night.

Before he was able to notice anything else, she began to stir, her eyelids fluttering as her eyes struggled to open against the bright spot of sun. "Good morning," she whispered hoarsely, squinting up at him. 

"Morning," he answered with a smile, lifting his hand to block the sun on her.

She laughed. "Finally sunny for the first time this week," she noted, stretching as much as she could without pulling away from his side at all.

"Only for a few more minutes in here," he said, lowering his arm and pointing out that the patch of sunlight was already noticeably smaller than it had been when he had woken up.

She smiled, closing her eyes. But she soon opened them again, realizing that she was already wide awake. He still held one arm tightly around her side, but the other he had moved around several times already. It had been resting behind his head, but now his hand tapped anxiously on top of the blanket just above his stomach. She reached across pulling his hand toward her, fitting her hand against his, interlacing their fingers. But as she rubbed her thumb instinctively along the side of his hand, she realized that something felt different. There was nothing familiar about the way his hand felt holding hers, it could be anyone's. The warmth, the strength, the assuredness - everything that had been there since the very first time she'd taken his hand was gone. It felt more like holding hands with a stranger than back when he actually had been one.

Their hands rested awkwardly between them. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head, mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do in this situation, something he once wouldn't have had to think about doing. Unexpectedly she pulled herself up and swung one leg over his hips so that she was straddling him, letting their hands fall apart so that his were now resting naturally at her waist. She leaned forward and kissed him, running her hands through his hair. She pressed her hips down, delighting as he inhaled sharply.

She pulled back enough to see his face, letting her hands slide to his chest. As his eyes finally opened she asked, "Still a good way to wake up?"

He nodded enthusiastically, lifting one hand to pull her face closer to his. From this perspective she looked exactly the way he remembered her, no surprises, no subtle differences. She gave in happily, kissing him again. With their hands grabbing for each other greedily like this, his touch still felt the way she remembered it.

She slowly opened her eyes to see him blindly reaching for the bedside table behind him. She sat up a bit and laughed reaching over to open the drawer for him. She pulled out another condom but before she closed the drawer her eye was drawn to a distinctive ring box sitting directly in the center of the drawer, something that would be seen every time the drawer was opened. But he suddenly pulled her back toward him and she let the drawer close as she gladly let herself be wrapped in his arms again.

Both feeling satisfied, though neither quite as satisfied as the night before, they lay together on the bed. She was now turned sideways with her head resting on his stomach. She held one of his hands again, this time between both of hers. There was no sun shining in the room now but she couldn't be sure if that was because it had become cloudy outside or if, as he had said, it just wasn't shining in this room.

He could distinctly remember the two of them lying like this other times before, her hair tickling his stomach as he made her laugh about the stupidest things. But now they were lying in silence, and if anything her hair was just making his stomach feel itchy. As if on cue, his stomach growled, giving him the excuse to get up and make something to eat. He quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and made his way out to the kitchen.

Now alone in the bedroom, she sighed, sitting and pulling the blanket up to her armpits even though the bed didn't feel any colder than it had a moment ago. She rubbed her arms, forcing herself to push down the feeling of dread that was building in the pit of her stomach. Less than a day and things were already unraveling again. She finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed and walked over to where her skirt and then her shirt has been left. She put them back on and then contemplated for a moment before also putting on one of his sweatshirts that had been left draped over the back of a small chair.

In the kitchen, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back. He was softer around the middle than he had been but somehow not as warm as she remembered. She lifted her head and reached up to press her fingers against the faint scratch marks she had left on his shoulder. He flinched slightly as she touched him, involuntarily jerking his shoulder forward as her hand touched him. She took a step back.

"Sorry," he muttered halfheartedly over his shoulder before reaching to turn off the stove. Less than 24 hours earlier he wanted nothing more than for her to touch him. But now it seemed forced, something from a different person from a different time.

They sat on the couch eating breakfast. She attempted to start conversation after conversation, each one puttering out after one or two one-word exchanges. She kept trying to come up with new things to talk about but they all sounded wrong the moment she said them out loud. Frustrated by the fact that it had never been this difficult to talk to him, she finally blurted out the one thing she could think to say that didn't require any actual thought.

"I'm sorry about you and Ksenia." 

She knew immediately this had been the wrong thing to say, but it was the verbal equivalent of not being able to resist the urge to pull at a loose thread on a sweater. Really she'd known that before she even said it, but if she'd had any doubt, the steely look he was giving her across his plate of eggs would have changed that.

"You knew before I called you, didn't you," he said after a long pause, not changing his gaze at all. It was a question, but he made it clear he already knew the answer.

"I didn't know that you were going to propose," she said instead of answering his non-question. His face suddenly changed, showing his confusion about where she had gotten that information. She wondered if he really hadn't told anyone about it.

"I saw the ring box," she started, "in the drawer." He sighed, finally looking away from her. This was clearly the wrong topic to be discussing. She knew she could change it, try to undo the damage but another explanation had just occurred to her. "Or wait," she reasoned out loud, "did you propose and that's what ended things..."

He set his fork down on his plate, letting it clatter loudly. "I didn't propose," he stated matter-of-factly. "And when she said she needed a commitment or it was over, I also didn't mention that I've had that ring for two years."

Silence. He didn't know how to explain wanting to propose to someone enough to get the ring but then not doing it. And she didn't know what to ask him about it.

"It's not, because of me..." she finally asked hesitantly.

He snorted, turning to put his empty plate on the end table, letting plastic bang against the wood for impact. "Can we have one conversation that you don't make about yourself?" he asked, standing up as he spoke.

Now this felt familiar. "Well, it's not much of a stretch," she reasoned placing her plate on the end table as well. "I don't hear from you for years, and when you finally call it just happens to be three weeks after you refuse to commit to your girlfriend of what, seven years?"

"That always drove you crazy, didn't it?" he questioned accusingly.

"What, you having a girlfriend?" she asked, incredulously.

"Me never being into you like that," he responded, pacing the length of the room opposite where she was sitting as he spoke. "The way everyone else is. The only attention you know what to do with."

She laughed dryly, "Five years and you're going with calling me a slut."

"I didn't say that," he clarified, well aware that he was backtracking.

"You don't have to. And I should have expected it anyway," she reasoned. "You always take the easy way, in arguments, in relationships."

"How do I take the easy way in relationships?" he interrupted.

She shrugged, feeling like it was a pretty obvious explanation. "You do whatever is easiest. If that's letting it end, you let it end. If that's staying in a relationship you no longer have interest in, you stay. If that's breaking up with someone over and over to keep getting back together, you'll do that too."

"Well what about you?" he asked, pleased with himself watching her brace herself for the comments she expected about her previous relationships but then being thrown off by his actual question.

"How recently did your engagement end?"

Now she was the one confused where he had gotten that information. The engagement had intentionally been kept fairly quiet, and breaking it off even more so. She knew it had been the main source of a lot of gossip the past few weeks, but he'd never been the type of person to read those rags.

"I know because everyone knows," he explained, shaking his head. "You can't keep anything quiet."

Before she had a chance to offer any response to that comment he continued, "And you've been rubbing your ring finger since you sat down."

She subconsciously glanced down at her finger; she wasn't quite used to not wearing her ring yet. She stood up slowly and crossed the room, standing in his way to keep him from pacing. She placed her hand on the side of his face, pushing up onto her toes to kiss him. He placed his hands on her hips as she pressed her lips against his, willing it to feel like it had years ago, but suddenly his kiss was as unfamiliar as holding his hand had been. She pulled away lowering onto the balls of her feet. She traced the edge of his lower lip with her thumb waiting for him to open eyes. When he did he was looking at her in a different light. The face that had once encouraged him to look at the world with excitement, was empty. The eyes she had once seen the world in, were blank. She lowered her hand and took a step back. He let his hands drop to his sides, realizing that even though her body felt the same, his hands didn't fit around her the way they used to.

She suddenly turned around, walking purposely toward his bedroom. He followed her halfway, starting to call after her when she quickly returned holding the engagement ring, still in its box. She placed it on the edge of the kitchen counter between them. 

"Stop letting everyone leave you," she said simply.

"What are you talking about? I don't," he stammered quickly, the words coming out faster than he was able to think through what she was saying. He waited for her to say something else but she just stood there next to the ring, her arms crossed. He said the only thing he could think of next.

"I was the one who left you."

"Because you were convinced I was going to leave first and would do anything to keep that from happening," she responded without missing a beat. "You never believed me, no matter how many times I told you I wasn't going anywhere."

"Elena, you don't..." he started.

"Ruslan, just listen to me..." she tried to reason.

"No," he interrupted loudly. He paused, wanting to measure her response to the next thing he was going to say, wanting more than anything to wipe that smug look off her face. "I'm not taking relationship advice from the most selfish person I have ever met."

She started to respond but he held up his hand as he continued, "Don't kid yourself into thinking that leaving you was easy. You're the one who stopped listening to me long before I ever decided I was done."

Her response from before caught in her throat. She knew that was far from the worst thing he could have said. She knew she could easily ignore it. But with that one comment, she also knew that he had really tried to hurt her. She would have let him question a lot of things about her, but she found herself infuriated that he had the audacity to call her selfish.

She uncrossed her arms slowly, her brown eyes staring daggers into him. He'd imagined this part of her before, but never felt it directed straight at him, even during their worst moments five years ago. He waited, seemingly unable to move, when she suddenly snatched the ring box from the counter and threw it across the room. It made it hollow thunk as it smacked against the soft plaster of the living room wall before clunking to the floor. He still flinched slightly; she hadn't thrown it at him but it had certainly been in his direction.

She stepped forward again, her face close to his again, but this time with no sign of tenderness. Her ice cold glare made him shudder. "You're every bit the stubborn pain in the ass you think I am," she said speaking slowly, making sure that he had the chance to hear and understand every word.

"Thing is," she started, like she was explaining something to a very young child, "I can walk out of here. But you'll have to keep dealing with the parts of your personality that you don't like." At that, she turned sharply and walked toward the apartment door. He didn't turn to look until he had heard it slam shut.

Once she was gone he walked across the room, not toward the door but rather toward the small dent in the wall. He ran his thumb across it feeling the slight concave that matched the corner of the ring box, physical proof of the difference between memory and reality.

The hallway outside the apartment was bathed in sunlight from windows at either end. She stood there, still holding onto the doorknob. There was a point when he would have already come after her. There was a point when she would have wanted him to. But now she was holding the door to make sure that it stayed shut, braced and ready for any movement that might indicate he intended to follow her. But the doorknob never moved and she eventually let go, walking down the hall toward the stairwell, every step feeling like she was putting another lifetime of distance between them.

  

_And I tell myself "move along" and I tell myself "you were all wrong"_

_But I know by now, wrong was right for me._  

_Sleep peacefully._


End file.
